


give me the world

by Lire_Casander



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Car Accidents, Christmas, Coma, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Hospitals, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: Alex Manes has been watching the love of his life from afar, until fate gives him the perfect excuse to act on his crush. But fate has something else in store for him.ORTheWhile You Were SleepingAU nobody asked for.
Relationships: Alex Manes/Max Evans (unrequited), Isobel Evans/Kyle Valenti, Max Evans/Jenna Cameron (mentioned), Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 75
Kudos: 118
Collections: Time After Time: A Roswell New Mexico Alternate Era AU Event, there will always be an us (in every world in every story)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skrtl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skrtl/gifts).



> Written for the [Time After Time Event](https://alterarnm.tumblr.com/) over a Tumblr, **Day 5: Movie fusions**.
> 
> So today I gift you with the _While You Were Sleeping_ AU Malex edition that nobody asked for, and yet I managed to write on my own. Title is a quote from the movie. Oh, and if you recognize your name in the story, well, surprise? I was thinking of some of my dear friends while writing it.
> 
> This is one of my babies. I have been working on this fic for so long, and now I can finally share it with the world. This was first thought to be posted around Christmas, but then it went on a different direction and grew to be so long that I simply couldn't finish it in time. Some of you may recognize some parts on it, because they were written for tumblr prompts back in December, and I found a way for them to mesh with the rest of the fic. 
> 
> It's completely written, but I will be posting the chapters every two days or so, to make reading easier. I won't be promoting the other chapters on tumblr if you follow me there, I'm sorry. This story will be solely posted on Ao3, with no crossposting whatsoever in any other social media.
> 
> Jassi, darling, this story is for you. I know you've been struggling with fandom for a long time, and I wanted to gift you with something to lift your spirits and make you smile. I hope I've managed to do so. Te quiero muchísimo, espero que lo sepas, y que sepas también que eres una persona muy especial y muy importante en mi vida.
> 
> Beta'ed by [brightloveee](https://brighteloveee.tumblr.com/). I have no words to thank you enough for all the work and the incredible effort that you've made in order for this to be readable. I am more than grateful to have you in my life, love. I hope you know that.

“Welcome to Bean Me Up, how can I help you?” 

“Good morning,” Alex greets the barista whoʼs been serving his coffee for the last eight months. “How are you this fine day?” 

“Hello, Alex!” she beams at him, her name tag screaming _Jassi_ at him as though he doesn’t know how to address her already. “Would it be your usual, or are you in a hurry today?” 

“My usual,” he tells her with a smile, taking out a ten dollar bill from his wallet and slipping it across the counter. “I have to finish a couple of things before actually going to the office.” 

“Sure,” she grabs the cash as she yells back to the other barista. “One black drip, no cream, hazelnut shot!” 

He nods, picking up the change, and goes to the end of the counter to wait for his coffee. While heʼs standing there, balancing his laptop bag over his left shoulder and leaning his right hip against the counter, the door opens and a swoosh of cold air enters the café alongside one of the most perfect men Alex has ever seen in his life. 

He’s tall enough that he has to scrunch down a bit to fit through the doorway, his hair neatly combed back, lean body hugged by a black jacket and dark trousers. Alex can see a white shirt peeking under the zip, lifted up until it almost collides against flesh, and no signs of a tie. The man strolls to the counter where Jassi is back to her smiling professional persona, and without even a greeting, he barks his order — one that Alex knows by heart because heʼs been hearing it for seven and a half months. 

“One espresso, double shot, no sugar, and one cappuccino with an extra hazelnut shot and one sugar.” He pauses for a second, gives Jassi time to pen down the different requests on two paper cups, and adds, “The nameʼs Max.” 

Alex even mutters the words to himself as the man throws two bills and a few coins on the counter and goes to wait for his order close enough to Alex that he can smell his aftershave. This is literally all he knows about this man who shows up at the café at seven forty-five for six days in a row and then he disappears for another three. He’s not sure what this Max does for a living, but Alex doesn’t care — as long as he keeps getting a brief once-over when Max reaches the end of the counter and gruffly says, “Good morning,” with an almost-yawn.

Alex lives for these intense seconds when they share a glance and what he hopes is a smile, before Jassi brings them their coffees — Alex’s cup decorated with some random drawings, and Max’s two plain and white with just his name on them. Max tips his head towards him and heads out of the café, leaving Alex catching his breath at the way those brown eyes seem to read his soul.

“Could you be a little bit less obvious?” Jassi tells him with a playful snarl in her voice. “He’s a jerk.”

“He’s just stressed,” Alex tells her as he picks his coffee from the counter. “I can tell, from the way he carries himself.”

“Stressed from being a jerk,” Jassi insists before turning around and approaching the next customer at the cash register. Alex shakes his head and limps slightly to the door — the damp weather and the warning of a snow storm just make his injury harder to bear. He wishes he had some free time to get a massage at the veterans medical center around the corner from his office. 

He’s thinking about how to juggle that rushed appointment into his already busy schedule for the day when he suddenly hears tires screeching outside and the distinct noise of a car hitting a human body. He forgets about the pain in his right leg and runs outside, coffee spilling out of his barely-lidded paper cup. A few customers and two of the baristas follow right behind him, colliding against his back when he stops dead in his tracks, making the rest of his coffee splash all over his leather jacket.

He doesn’t even flinch, not when he takes in the scene in front of him.

There are three cars askew in the middle of the road, smoke fogging part of the street, and already a growing group of voyeurs is gathering around the site. Alex, trained to find detail in situations like this one, spots a mop of dark hair and a black jacket on the ground, and his heart stops beating.

“Max!” he exclaims, dropping his coffee and his bag. He doesn’t hear the laptop hitting the ground, and when he briefly turns his head around he sees Jassi holding it in one hand. “Thanks,” he mouths as he rushes in between the cars to check what happened and how he can help. He’s got medical training from his tours with the Air Force, but it’s all focused on war injuries.

Max doesn’t appear to have one of those, though.

When Alex reaches his side, Max is prone on the ground, one arm below the structure of a car and the other stretched out, a drop of blood trekking down his palm. There’s a red pool on the asphalt beneath Max’s body, and Alex can’t help but think that the life’s trailing out of him, although he can’t understand where all that blood is coming from. He checks for vitals, shaky fingers looking for a pulse in Max’s neck, and he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding back when he feels _life_ pounding still through Max’s veins. “Call an ambulance!” he yells, turning around and meeting Jassi’s gaze. “He’s still alive, but it looks bad. And I’m no doctor.”

“They’re on their way,” one of the witnesses assures him, cell phone in hand. Alex nods curtly, and focuses back on Max. He’s barely breathing, but his chest is heaving unevenly and that’s much more than Alex had been expecting when he’d first set eyes on the accident. The drivers of two of the cars are arguing, a screaming match that deafens him, but Alex couldn’t care less.

He’s trying to keep Max alive, checking his pulse every once in a while, preventing people from getting too close, and making sure he has enough air around him to breathe even if Alex doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He hears the sirens approaching, and the last thing he’s able to do is put some astray locks away from Max’s forehead before the paramedics are wrenching him away to work.

Everything happens so fast Alex doesn’t even have time to register every motion taking place — the paramedics place Max on top of a stretcher and take him inside the ambulance, stopping Alex when he wants to get in. “Only family,” he’s told by a short, blonde woman who’s got an IV into Max’s arm. 

“At least tell me where you’re taking him!” Alex demands, voice breaking even though he wills it to remain steady. “Please!”

“To the Mercy,” the paramedic takes pity on him and spills the name before trying to close the door. It gets stuck, and while the paramedic attempts to force it closed, Alex sighs. 

“I was going to marry him,” he mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else. He replays the fantasies heʼs had these past months, of the broody and tall man taking him in his arms and kissing him senseless, now destroyed by the accident. He doesn’t think Max will come back to the coffee shop in a long while, so heʼs mourning the loss of what could have been. 

“Excuse me?” the paramedic asks him. “Are you his fiancé?” 

Alex canʼt really react before Jassi is shoving him forward, his laptop bag falling in place against his shoulder, and the paramedic catches him when he stumbles toward the steps. “Get in, quick, quick!” 

He blinks as heʼs pushed onto a bench inside the ambulance, the sirens back on, and the vehicle starts to wade through the traffic. 

The ride to the hospital is a blur in his memory, later on. Alex doesn’t remember the streets, the noises — he only sees Max’s silent form, eyes closed and breath steady if the beeping coming from the machines heʼs latched onto are right. The paramedics pretty much ignore him the whole time, urgently monitoring his vitals and shouting the stats, working with quick hands to save Max’s life. Only when they arrive at the hospital does Alex realize what heʼs done and where he is. 

Kyle’s waiting for the ambulance outside, with another two doctors, when they stop and the doors open. Alex wants to crawl under a rock and be forgotten by the world, but he has no chance to before Kyle catches sight of him and frowns. 

“What are you doing here? What happened, Alex?” he hisses before turning his attention to the stretcher. “What do we have?”

“Male, late twenties,” the blonde paramedic explains, shoving Alex out of the way unceremoniously. “Struck by a car. Unconscious, unresponsive, massive blood loss. There are two other ambulances coming.”

“Get him inside,” Kyle barks, following the stretcher inside. Alex can tell from the way Kyle keeps stealing glances his way that his friend — and current roommate — doesn’t really understand what he’s doing at the hospital accompanying a man he doesn’t recognize. When Alex runs to catch up, he’s halted by Kyle’s intense stare. “You wait here. I don’t know what’s going on, or why you’re here with _him_ , but you stay put. I’ll send someone to you in a while.”

Alex nods curtly and walks up to the waiting room, where he flops down on a chair and massages his right leg absentmindedly before scanning the place — there are a few people scattered through the chairs, lost in their own thoughts, who didn’t even lift their heads when he entered the room. For a second he closes his eyes and allows himself to find his focus, but he opens them wildly when he realizes that he’s missing his laptop bag. “Shit!” he mutters under his breath, flailing around and trying to get up. His leg, tired and sore, gives out and Alex falls down on the chair again with a loud _thud_. The rest of the people startle and hiss at the noise, and Alex feels his face burning with the heat of shame.

“Are you okay, sir?” a voice comes from the door. When he looks up, he sees a nurse with his laptop bag in her hands and his expression must have shifted because she walks up to him and offers the bag with a smile. “They told me you forgot your bag in ambulance oh—nine—three—five. Here it is.”

Alex doesn’t even try to stand up. Instead, he reaches out and snatches the bag from her hands with a bashful smile. “Thanks. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Doctor Valenti will be out soon enough to inform you about your—” she trails off and sighs, “—fiancé.”

“Thanks,” Alex repeats, looking down. He doesn’t know if her hesitation comes from a dismissal of same-sex relationships or from her incredulity at someone like him being engaged to someone like Max. Alex realizes he doesn’t even know Max’s last name. He panics, because he knows he’s going to be caught in his lie and he’s going to die of embarrassment in the middle of a hospital’s waiting room. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, to say what he blurted out loud in front of an audience — to confess to one of his most intimate fantasies. He’s been daydreaming about Max for months now, about how his hands would feel on his skin, about sharing kisses and a bed and much more, up to the point where Alex had decided that Max was all his dreams come true.

There’s a fine line between dreams and reality, it seems, and Alex has just crossed it at the worst moment.

“Alex,” Kyle’s voice takes him out of his reverie. Alex doesn’t know how much time has passed, but from the light coming in through the windows of the waiting room, it’s most probably around noon. His friend walks up to him, as though he’s sensing Alex can’t really stand up — which he probably does, with how much hell he’s been giving Alex about going to his doctor for a check-up. 

“Kyle,” he begins, dropping his voice to a whisper when his friend reaches him. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“This isn’t you lying about getting married to someone you really don’t know at all?” Kyle hisses. “Because it seems you told McKenzie that you were marrying Max Evans, and I know for sure that you would have told me if you were dating someone, let alone if you were _engaged_ to them!”

“It was—” Alex gulps and coughs around his words. “It was a white lie. Max was lying on the ground, he was bleeding out and they wouldn’t tell me anything! What did you expect me to do?”

“What about telling the truth?” Kyle admonishes him in a low voice. “Not lying should always be your first option, Captain Manes.”

Alex knows he’s in deep trouble when Kyle uses his rank. “I promise to fix this, but tell me, Kyle. How is he?” 

Before Kyle can reply, three blonde women rush into the waiting room, talking loudly. Alex and Kyle turn to watch them — the taller one with a frantic look in her eyes steps forward, followed by the other two trying and failing to calm her down. “I want to talk to someone who can tell me something about my brother!” the first woman demands. “His nameʼs Max Evans!” 

The woman speaking is tall, green eyes and mouth tight, dressed in a grey pencil skirt and a white shirt underneath a black coat. The other women are wearing jeans and sweaters, their jackets on their arms. They seem quite a bit calmer than the taller one. 

“Please calm down, maʼam,” Kyle addresses her in a soothing tone. “Iʼm Doctor Valenti, and Iʼm the one who admitted your brother. Can I have your name please?” 

“Iʼm Isobel Evans-Bracken,” she says, hands balling into fists at her side. “Whereʼs my brother? What happened?” 

“Calm down, Isobel,” one of the other blonde women tries to appease her. “Let the doctor explain.” 

Alex sinks back into his seat, trying to disappear into the background while Kyle explains to the women that Max is currently in a coma, but that heʼs stable and will wake up at any time. Alex pays attention while keeping his eyes fixed on his laptop bag, in an attempt to divert any focus from him. He thinks heʼs succeeded when Kyle manages to get three women calm enough to take their seats, and heʼs about to stand up himself and leave when the nurse who returned his laptop bag comes back into the waiting room.

“Oh, I see Max Evansʼ family is now gathered together!” she says happily. “Youʼll see, your fiancé will be better in no time, and youʼll be able to keep planning your wedding really soon!” She pats his shoulder, unaware of the chaos she’s causing. 

“Fiancé?” Isobel says, words echoed by the other two women — and now that Alex gets a closer look at them, he can see the resemblance between them. Definitely sisters, but they don’t look like Isobel Evans-Bracken. He thinks theyʼre maybe cousins. “Excuse _me_?” 

Alex wishes the ground would open and swallow him whole, but he isn’t granted that mercy. The nurse smiles nervously as she blinks between Alex and the three women. “You—didn’t know?” 

“No, we didnʼt,” the only woman who hasnʼt spoken yet says. “Charlie Cameron,” she introduces herself through the surprise that colors her features. “And you are?” 

“Alex,” he stammers. “Alex Manes.” 

“Alex Manes,” Isobel repeats slowly, as though she’s chewing the syllables. “I wouldn’t have expected _this_ from Max. Wait till we tell Michael!” She reaches out and squeezes Alex’s left arm. “Iʼm Isobel, Max’s twin sister. And this is Jenna Cameron,” she tells him, motioning for the other blonde woman to step up. “She’s Charlieʼs older sister.” 

“Barely seventeen months,” she mumbles. 

The nurse, seemingly oblivious to Alex’s uneasiness, grins and goes back to the reception counter. Alex excuses himself for a second and follows her. He reaches the nurse — her name tag says clearly Grace — and he whispers furiously, “Why did you say that?” 

“What?” she asks back, not a trace of recognition for what she did. 

“Telling them Iʼm Max’s fiancé!” 

“Because that’s what youʼve been telling everyone!” she defends herself. Alex has to admit that, to an extent, heʼs been feeding the lie without actually denying it. 

“But itʼs not true!” he hisses. “I just said it to get information on how he was!” 

“Then you should have thought about that before opening your big mouth,” Grace shakes her head. “Go back there and tell the truth.” 

“As if itʼs even possible! Have you _seen_ them?” Alex looks briefly back to the three women, Isobel tapping the floor with her heel. “She’s intimidating!” 

Grace shakes her head and goes back to her work, leaving Alex to fend for himself. He shudders, trying to think of a way to get out of this mess, but announcing _hey, it’s all been a joke_ doesn’t seem like something Isobel and the Cameron sisters might take well. 

He’s saved by Kyle coming back to the waiting room. “Mrs Evans-Bracken,” he says. “You can go see your brother now, if youʼd like to.” 

“Finally,” she huffs, even though she’s been waiting for barely ten minutes. She begins walking to follow Kyle, but then she seems to remember something and she stops dead in her tracks. “Arenʼt you coming, Alex?” she offers. 

Alex can see the moment Kyle connects the dots and frowns at him. He wants to smack himself for not being bold enough to actually own up to his mistake, but he has no time. Charlieʼs grabbing his hand and tugging at him to walk with them, and before he realizes it heʼs in a hospital room, watching as Max breathes in and out with the help of a beeping machine. There’s a thrumming in his ears, blocking everything Kyle is saying; all he sees is the man heʼs been obsessed with lying on a bed in a coma. 

Alex manages to focus enough to notice Jenna closing in on Max’s bedside, he even thinks he sees her hand twitching forward as though she wants to _touch_ Max before it falls by her side, colliding against her hip, like she’s stopped herself mid-movement abruptly. He blinks towards Kyle, whoʼs now instructing them about visiting hours and how spending the night given Max’s state is unadvised. “If there’s any change, you will be called immediately,” he promises. 

“Can I at least stay a little longer?” Isobel asks in a soft voice, so different from the demanding tone she’d used earlier. Not even knowing her at all, Alex can tell seeing her twin brother on that bed has subdued her. 

“Of course,” Kyle grants. “I will send someone to tell you when your time is over.” And with that he leaves the room, not even sparing a glance back at Alex, whoʼs pretty sure that heʼs going to have to endure a lecture on honesty when they both arrive home. 

“Hey, Max,” Isobel whispers when they’re left alone in the room. Alex remains in the background, near the door, attempting not to draw attention to himself. “Weʼre here. You’re going to be okay, do you hear me? The doctor says youʼll wake up any moment and youʼll be fine.” 

“Max, donʼt you ever scare us like that,” Charlie intervenes, stepping up and placing one hand on her sisterʼs hand and other on Max’s arm. “Just wake up so Jenna and I can kick your ass for letting a car run over you.” 

“See? The girls are here, I am here,” Isobel keeps talking. “Even your fiancé is here for you,” she continues, motioning for Alex to walk up to the bed. So much for wanting to be unnoticed. “Once youʼre awake, we will have a talk about secrets, Mr Honesty,” she chuckles. “But heʼs here, and once we get a hold of Michael and Noah, everyone will be here so you wake up, please. Christmas Eve is two days from now. I need you home.” 

“Cʼmere, Alex,” Jenna gestures at him, biting her lower lip. He can tell she doesn’t like him that much — honestly, he doesn’t think heʼd like himself that much if he were in her situation — but she’s trying. “Talk to him,” she instructs. “Hearing your voice might help as well.” 

He nods curtly and steps closer, next to Isobel. “Max,” he begins, voice cracking a bit. “Max,” he starts again, “Iʼm here. Isobelʼs here. The Camerons are here. Please wake up.” When heʼs about to reach out and touch Max — for the first time in their whole lives — Grace, the nurse from the waiting room, interrupts. 

“Itʼs time to leave,” she says in a soft voice. She looks over at Alex and frowns warningly. “Visiting hours start at eight tomorrow, and youʼre welcome to come back then.” 

“Thanks,” Isobel nods, pushing off Max’s bedside. “Letʼs go home.”

The girls lead the way out of the room and into the hall, nurses and doctors past rushing to one room or the other. Alex follows them, eyes adjusting to the bright light outside, and misses half of the words heʼs being told. “Excuse me, uh, sorry?” 

“I was asking you if youʼd like to come have dinner with us,” Isobel offers again. “Iʼd understand if you want to go home, but I donʼt think either of us wants to be alone right now. I donʼt think you should be on your own in that apartment, anyway.” 

Alex realizes belatedly that she’s not alluding to his shared apartment with Kyle, where he’s going to be on his own all night because the doctor has a shift until morning. Isobel is speaking about him not coming home to _Max_. “Oh, no, no,” he rushes to explain, because there are tons of things that could go wrong — wronger, his mind supplies — if he lets them think heʼs living with Max. “Weʼre not living together. Weʼre waiting,” and he hopes they buy it. 

Which, surprisingly, they do. 

“Thatʼs so Max,” Jenna sighs. “Anyway, Isobelʼs right. You shouldn’t be alone, at least not tonight. Come home with us, and then youʼll meet the rest of the family.” 

“I highly doubt youʼve heard much of us,” Charlie says conspiratorially when Isobel and Jenna walk away to talk on their phones. “Max and Michael had a big fallout years ago, and theyʼre civil to each other now, but it was ugly for a while. And then Isobel married the jerk, I mean, Noah, and Max put some distance then.” 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Alex asks. 

“Because youʼve chosen to be part of the madhouse, and Max would never ever tell anyone this,” Charlie nods. “You may be his fiancé, but I am sure as hell he hasnʼt even told you about his family. It’s been a few months since he last called or texted.” 

Alex blinks again. Heʼs about to reply, to ask again, but heʼs cut off by Isobelʼs voice on the phone, loud and piercing. “Where have you been, Noah? I needed you! Donʼt tell me again that you were at work!” 

Charlie grabs his arm and tugs at him to get near Jenna, and as far away from Isobelʼs wrath as possible. “Jenna was Max’s partner while they worked for the Sheriffʼs office back in Roswell,” she explains. “The Evans accepted us in their family, no questions asked. And when they asked for a transfer to Chicago, we all followed them.”

“Really? No questions asked?” Alex shakes his head. That would explain why Isobel has been so keen in accepting the news that Alex was in Max’s life. 

“Not one,” Charlie keeps on. “I guess itʼs because of their upbringing. Has Max told you that they were adopted when they were seven?” Before Alex can shake his head, Charlie cuts him off. “Why doesn’t it surprise me? Max has always tried to be _normal_ , whatever that means. As if being adopted is something to be ashamed of. But, anyway, they were three but the Evans only adopted two. Their brother, Michael, wasnʼt adopted with them. It’s a sad, sad story. But they found each other, and they swore they wouldn’t ever be apart. Thatʼs why they all moved here following Max. I just came because Jenna is all I have.” 

“So you all are what? Like a found family?” Alex frowns, trying to understand it. If anyone knows about having a family that’s not related by blood, it’s him — Kyle and Maria, and more recently Liz, are good additions to his life to step into the places where his own family had left him to fend for himself. Before Charlie has a chance to reply, Isobel’s back, face a bit red and eyes alight, tugging Jenna out of her own phone call.

“Come home, Michael,” she says as all possible farewell. “There’s a lot we need to tell you. Yeah, yeah, I know. But please come!”

“At least he picked up _your_ call,” Isobel says through gritted teeth. “I got sent straight to voicemail.” She composes herself a bit and smiles sweetly at Alex, who’s trying not to look like he doesn’t belong to this crazy family. “Alex, sweetie, please come have dinner with us. I’d love to know more about you and how you and Max got engaged!”

And how is he supposed to deny Isobel anything, when she’s looking at him with pleading eyes? Alex is powerless against her, just as he’s been powerless against the pull of Max’s eyes whenever they crossed each other’s paths, and he nods. He fishes discreetly for his phone and sends Kyle a quick text to let him know he’s been abducted by three blonde women. All he gets back is the facepalm emoji and a short line, _just be honest with them_ , before placing his cell back in his pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun’s starting to peek through the clouds when Michael makes his way to the two-story house he’s been sharing with his sister and her husband. It’s a temporary arrangement, he keeps telling himself, after eight and a half months of taking over their guest room. He fumbles with the key, fingers shivering in the cold outside, and wonders not for the first time what got into him to follow Max to Chicago when they were still young enough to get along.

He has never, _ever_ , liked snow. But at twenty-one, he’d been reckless enough to actually think Chicago could be as good a place as any to start over again. He fights against the lock and loses his first attempt to open the door, hands trembling too much to function. He sighs, sagging against the doorframe, and hopes that Isobel doesn’t get out and find him in this predicament, because she would think he’s drunk — and that hasn’t been the case for at least six months now. He’s stronger now, and not even Jenna’s call from the hospital to let him know that his brother had suffered an accident and was in a coma could bring him back to his old habits.

To one of the many reasons why he can’t look Max in the eye these days without feeling either a failure or too hurt to even talk to his brother.

Michael closes his eyes, remembering another time when Max and him were closer — a time when everything made sense, after years of being alone jumping from group home to foster family and back again. He remembers the cozy feeling of _belonging_ he had the first time he saw them again after four years apart. That feeling is what’s kept him alive through all the trouble the past six years have put them all through.

“Michael?” he hears from inside the house, sounds muffled by the closed door and the thick glass in the windows. When he lifts his head, he can see Jenna looking at him with an indecipherable glance in her eyes. “What are you doing out there? Get inside!”

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asks her when Jenna opens the front door and takes in his slumped form against the wall. She’s wearing a red and white Christmas sweater that doesn’t look all that ugly on her, and jeans. Michael wonders if she’s just got in the house. “Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling the streets?”

“You know I’m on desk duty after the incident,” she tells him, stressing her last word as she crouches beside him. “They wouldn’t even allow me near a gun this time. What’s your excuse for being like this?” Michael knows that, out of all the people who could have found him in this stance — hitting his head against a wall, freezing and unable to open his own front door — Jenna Cameron is, by far, the best. Under her tough and snarky exterior, Michael knows she is gentle enough to understand him and his problems.

Mainly because they share the same problem these days.

“Max is in the hospital,” she tells him, when it’s evident he’s not speaking.

“You told me yesterday,” he whispers. “I couldn’t make it home until now.”

“You’ve missed a lot,” she insists. “Get in, I’ll make some breakfast and we can wake everyone else up.”

“How are _you_?” Michael asks her, cautiously, because he knows it just takes one misstep and Jenna will never open up to him. After the incident that put her on desk duty and got Max promoted, it’s always been a bit of walking on ice around her for everyone, including Michael. “This has to be hard on you.”

“He’ll live,” she says, gaze lost in the midst of fog and snow in front of them. “That cute doctor at the hospital said Max will wake up, only they don’t know when.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he nudges her, frozen nails scraping her arm. “It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, but I’m worried about you.”

“So you want to know, huh?” Jenna stands up and dusts away some small snowflakes from her jeans. “D’you really want to know how I feel after that _traitor_ who threw me to the sharks has been sent to the hospital in a coma?”

“You are in love with that traitor, Jenna,” he says softly, standing up and pulling her into a tight embrace. “Iʼm sorry I wasnʼt around last night.” 

“Youʼll have to answer to Isobel for that,” Jenna tells him as she tries, and fails, to get out of his locked arms around her waist. “We werenʼt alone, though.” 

She moves to the door and opens it, dragging him inside. “Isobel!” she calls out. “Your brotherʼs here!” 

“Hush now!” comes the instant reply from the kitchen, the second door at their right. “Alex is still asleep!” 

“Whoʼs Alex?” Michael asks in a low voice, trying to get past Isobel and her sure wrath. 

“Max’s fiancé,” Isobel tells him as she walks out of the kitchen, one cloth draped over her shoulder and her arms on her hips. “Now lower your voice, but you _will_ tell me what was so important last night that you couldn’t even come to the hospital to check on your brother after he almost died!” 

Michael is saved from explaining — from having to tell Isobel that heʼs once again picked night shifts at the Wild Pony with Maria to make ends meet, ever since he lost his last job at a nearby junkyard. Isobel doesn’t think heʼll have trouble finding a new job as a mechanic, but Michael knows better. 

Michael knows that one look at his mangled left hand and no one in their right mind will ever hire him to do anything else than sweep floors. 

“I was working,” he tries to explain as quietly as possible. 

“Yeah, working your way through Mariaʼs patrons,” Charlie quips in as she exits the kitchen as well, munching on a toast. 

“None of your business,” he retaliates. “Now, whereʼs this Alex? I want to meet whoever has managed to make Max settle down.” Jenna stiffens by his side, but he isn’t about to take his words back because they are true — Michael knows Jenna has been in love with Max for half their life together, but Max has changed so much during the past few years, and right now Michael is sure that Jenna deserves much better than Max. 

“Iʼm here,” says a voice at his back, from the couch in the living room. “You must be Michael.” 

He remains frozen in his spot, his hands in half fists at his side, for the voice isn’t what heʼd been expecting. Heʼd thought about maybe a sweet, singing voice, not the very grave, very _male_ voice heʼs hearing. 

“This had to be a joke,” he huffs, turning around to meet dark chocolate eyes and a mop of black hair tousled from sleep. The man is wearing an oversized sweater that Michael recognizes as his, and sweatpants that he thinks might belong to Noah, but the jerk hasn’t been around enough for Michael to actually _meet_ him over dinner or breakfast, so he can’t be sure.

“Iʼm Alex Manes,” the stranger introduces himself, stretching out his hand. Michael shakes it shyly at first, but once Alex squeezes his fingers Michael smiles and squeezes back. It’s brief, and it doesn’t really mean anything, but Michael feels his heart swell at the touch. 

“I was expecting someone less—”

“I swear to God, Michael, if you say _masculine_ ,” Isobel warns him. But Alex laughs. 

Alex laughs, and Michael doesn’t think heʼs ever heard a sound that made him feel butterflies in his stomach. 

“I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all,” Michael tries to cover for his sudden nervousness. Alex lets go of his hand, and Michael feels the loss in the coldness that creeps up from his fingertips to his shoulder. He could freeze right here, right now, if Alex doesn’t touch him again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, it’s been a surprise for all of us, this whole engagement thing,” Isobel interrupts them again, shoving Michael towards the stairs. Michael thinks he hears Alex mutter _well, about that_ , but Isobel’s voice takes over once again. “You, up! You need a shower, and you know it. I’m making pancakes and some Eggs Benedict for Charlie, will make you some too if you’re back quick enough!”

Michael shakes his head in amusement as he heads up, motioning for his sister to cook whatever she wants — because that’s what she always does, after all — while he goes into his room to retrieve a change of clothes and steps into the ensuite bathroom. One good thing that he’s found out about living back with his sister and her awful husband is that Noah earns enough money to afford a house with an ensuite bathroom in each bedroom, plus a couple of guest bathrooms as well. Michael gets the shower running and falls under the hot spray while he thinks about the events of this morning.

Michael sighs, his curls wet from the water but not yet shampooed. He spent half his night shift thinking about how to approach Isobel on the subject of her husband never being present — Noah Bracken has been travelling and staying overnight at his office more and more as of late — because he’s worried about his sister. _Isobel fell blindly for that idiot_ , he thinks as he reaches for the shampoo and the conditioner. _She came here because of Max, and now she’s trapped here because of this jerk._

He hadn’t been expecting to meet Max’s fiancé at his home. He would have _never_ thought Max would have gotten engaged without actually screaming it for the whole world to know, in bright pink letters written across the Chicago sky, _Max Evans is getting married to the love of his life_ , because he’s the type of guy to actually embarrass his girlfriends like that. When he’s not betraying them for a promotion, as it turned out to be with Jenna and their fall-out — Michael has yet to forgive his brother for being such a dick to the woman who left everything in Roswell and asked for a transfer to Illinois because he wanted to move out of New Mexico to expand his horizons. 

Michael has yet to forgive his brother for so many things; not telling him about his upcoming marriage shouldn’t irk him that much. The truth is, Michael isn’t sure whether he’s bummed because Max is getting _married_ , because he’s getting married to a _man_ , or because he’s getting married to _that_ man.

“Michael, are you even alive in there?” he hears over the noise of the water splashing against the tiles. Jenna’s voice carries through the air tinged with amusement; Michael knows she’s been sent up before Isobel takes matters in her own hands and drags him out of the shower herself. “Your sister is about to pop a vein waiting for you!”

“Tell her I’ll be out in three!” he yells back as he hurriedly applies conditioner before finishing his shower as quickly as possible. He knows how Isobel gets when she’s impatient. And she’s never been patient.

He manages to fight his way into his own jeans and he’s wrestling the t-shirt over his head as he climbs down the stairs, so he doesn’t see anything in his path. When he collides against a hard body and the sound of something metallic hitting the floor deafens him, he yelps. “Oh shit, sorry!” he manages to say before kicking his head into the t-shirt neck and watching the disaster he’s caused. On the floor, Alex is massaging his right leg just below the knee, with a pained look in his face. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not much, not really,” Alex replies, but it comes out stuttered and aching. “I just lost balance, that’s all. Wasn’t expecting you when I turned to the hall.”

“You don’t seem okay,” Michael tells him, reaching out and grabbing his arm to help him up. Alex recoils and Michael retreats, his fingers limp back at his side. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Alex smiles ruefully and pushes himself on his feet, favoring his left leg. He leans in and taps his right leg, the same metallic sound from before echoing faintly in Isobel’s hall. “I’m just three quarters human, one quarter bionic,” he jokes half-heartedly. “I’ll survive.”

“Accident?” Michael blurts out before he can catch himself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry,” he adds.

Alex shakes his head. “I was in the Air Force for ten years. Bound up to give more of myself to make up for being the family’s disappointment.”

Michael wants to say something — the traitorous part of his soul that’s screaming right now wants him to _kiss_ it better — but he’s cut off by Isobel, once again. “Could you two please stop doing whatever you’re doing and come to the kitchen! We’re starving here!” With a laugh and a shake of his head, Michael files away whatever he wants to do to his brother’s fiancé and enters the kitchen.

He grabs a spoon and gets ready to attack his eggs as Isobel shrieks, “Michael! Can’t you eat your eggs like a normal person?”

“Oh, Isobel,” he jokes with a wink, “this is how I love to eat my eggs.” That elicits a burst of laughter from Alex, and even Charlie has to roll her eyes at his antics before picking up some toast and chewing on it.

Breakfast goes as smoothly as it could with three women attempting to gossip their way into Alex’s life. Michael cringes when they veer from the most innocent questions — how the two met, when’s the wedding — to asking for details of an intimate nature. “Enough talking for now,” he says around a spoonful of Eggs Benedict. “Why don’t you let the boy live, and stop being so curious? If Max would have wanted us to know, he’d have told us.”

“He may have not told _you_ ,” Isobel says, sounding irritated and slightly offended. “But I’m his twin sister, and we really are on speaking terms. I just don’t understand why he thought he had to hide this from me.”

Michael can’t help himself. Before he can even catch his own act, before Jenna can stop him, he’s already opening his big mouth and saying, “I guess that’s because he’s supposed to be a complete bigot.”

“Wait, what?” Alex blinks as Isobel screeches, “Michael! Take that back immediately, he’s our brother!”

“He may be _your_ brother,” Michael says bitterly. “But he sure as hell made it clear that I wasn’t _his_ when I came to him after this,” he adds, lifting his left hand where even Alex can see it, the broken bones and the raw flesh cramping as he makes them twitch. “It was a fucking hate crime, and you know it, Iz. And all he told me was that I deserved it. He fucking stood up in his high horse and told me I _deserved_ it. So, please, don’t make me keep going on with this.”

He shoves the spoon back onto the table with more force than necessary and sighs, threading his good hand through his curls. He shouldn’t lose control like that in front of complete strangers, but he’s too tired of going over the same issue over and over again — of Isobel trying to mend all the bridges Max burned when they had their last fight. When Michael had been assaulted for being affectionate with a guy in public, and Max had refused to actually help him, too busy sucking it up to his new bosses. _That’s what you get for getting into trouble_ , he’d said. _You shouldn’t flaunt yourself like that_. Michael had been so taken aback by the sudden change of heart his brother had experienced — caring, loving, shy Max who’d write poems to the girl he’d had a crush on back in high school — that he hadn’t known how to react.

When, months later, Max threw Jenna under the bus during an Internal Affairs raid on their precinct, only to get himself up in the ranks, knowing full well he didn’t know the whole truth about what had happened, Michael had decided Max wasn’t worth his time. They were brothers, but only because a DNA test taken when they were all teenagers had said so. For all that matters, Michael doesn’t want to be associated with someone who treats people like they don’t mean anything.

It doesn’t help that Max turned out to be Noah’s biggest supporter. Michael hates his sister’s husband with a passion, and he knows it’s irrational, but he can’t stand the guy. Knowing Max roots for him is just another point to cross on his _why to despise Max Evans_ list.

“You know what,” he says, picking up his spoon and putting it down beside his plate. “I have some errands to do, I think I will be out of your hair now.”

“Michael, wait,” Isobel begins, but he cuts her off smoothly.

“I really need to get going, Iz,” he tells her, attempting for sweetness with the use of the endearment nickname he reserves for her. “Will grab dinner on my way back, don’t wait up for me.”

“What’s that errand that will keep you away the _whole_ day?” Isobel presses on.

“For fuck’s sake, Isobel, let the guy be,” Jenna quips in. “Need any help, Michael?”

“Not really,” he says, standing up. “See you later.”

“In fact,” Alex says, grave voice an octave lower than what Michael has gotten used to, in the few moments they’ve already spent. “I should be heading out as well. Mind if I go with you part of the way? Assuming we’re heading the same way.”

Michael would have lied, if only to have Alex accompany him longer than they’re supposed to — his whole life if possible.

He has to shake his head to clear it, not knowing where all those thoughts are coming from. _He’s Max’s fiancé_ , he tells himself. _As fucked up as this is, Alex is taken. Get a grip, Guerin_.

“I guess so,” he concedes. “I’ll go fetch my coat. Will be out in five.” Without further ado, he exits the kitchen and all but runs up to his room to grab some shoes and his coat from where he shoved it onto the bed when he came home earlier. As he’s retrieving socks from his drawer, he hears a knock on the door. He stiffens.

“It’s just me,” Jenna says, stepping into the room as he turns around. He sighs. “Just wanted to ask for a favor, though I’m not sure you’d be up for it.”

Michael bites his lower lip and nods for her to go on.

“I know you’re not on the best terms with Max,” she begins. “I know you don’t want to go to the hospital to see him, and I can’t say I blame you for that. But—”

“I knew there was a but,” he whispers, shifting his weight from one feet to the other. 

“But,” she repeats. “Max is your brother. Even after everything, I believe there’s something good in him.”

“After what he did to you? Why are you still defending him?”

“Because I love him!” Jenna all but screams. She shakes herself, and Michael can see a tear strolling down her cheek. “And he’s obviously been working on his issues, if this whole fiancé thing is something to go with. We all have issues, Michael. Max, Isobel, my sister, me… You.”

Michael sighs. “What’s the point in all this?”

She rings the keys she’s been hiding in her fist. “Isobel has to go to the hospital, keep watch in case Max wakes up. Charlie and I, we have to go work. Noah is—”

“—missing as always,” Michael completes her sentence with a sneer.

“And I have just remembered that Max has plants,” she tells him.

“Plants. Right,” Michael blinks at her. He doesn’t know where she’s leading to.

“We need to take care of the plants, or else they’ll die. And you don’t want to step into a closed space with dead plants. You don’t know how horrid that smell is.”

“Let Alex do that.” Michael turns around to grab his socks and sits down to begin putting them on. “After all, they’ll be _his_ plants too when he marries the jerk.”

“Have you missed the memo where Alex said they don’t live together? I doubt he even has a key to Max’s apartment,” Jenna sits beside him on the bed, her hand with the keys close enough to his that he could touch her if he so much as stretched slightly her way. “Isobel won’t come up and ask you for this. She knows she’s fucked up.”

“Theyʼre not living together?” Michael frowns. 

“Thatʼs all you got from what I said?” 

“You know me,” Michael retaliates as he stands up, swinging the keys out of Jennaʼs grasp. “I’ll get Alex to the subway, then I’ll head up to Max’s.” 

Jenna hums before kissing his cheek. “You’re a good man, Michael Guerin.” 

“Despite all my efforts not to be,” he jokes easily. 

He watches as she makes her way to the door and salutes him in mockery before exiting his bedroom. Michael sighs, clinking the keys between his fingers. He has a look over the disaster his room is — his clothes scattered throughout the space, the shoes peeking out from underneath his bed, one of his cowboy hats dangling perilously from the bedʼs headrest. He grabs one of his jackets and stomps out, closing the door with enough force for the sound to echo through the stairs. 

Alex is waiting for him by the door, his coat already on, gloves and a scarf covering half his face. Heʼd look ridiculous, but Michael finds himself short of breath as he watches one of Alex’s locks sticking out from underneath a knitted wool beanie. 

“Where are you headed?” he asks as he opens the front door. 

“I was thinking about heading home,” Alex says shyly. “I have nothing to do today. I donʼt have to go to work until the day after Christmas.” 

“Care to join me?” Michael offers with a wink. He isn’t ready to let go of Alex; there’s a need to get to know the other man deeply engraved in his soul. _Itʼs just because heʼs marrying Max_ , he tells himself. 

He has the feeling heʼs lying to himself. 

“Iʼm going to Max’s,” he explains. “Have to take care of his plants. I guess youʼd like to go up and check on them as well.” He wishes his true desire of getting closer to Alex isn’t showing through his esger words. 

Alex lowers his scarf and flashes a smile. “After you,” he says, stepping aside to let Michael lead the way. 

They end up going downtown on Michael’s truck, an old Chevy heʼs had ever since he was old enough to drive. He parks the vehicle near the entrance of Max’s building, and waits for Alex to hop off, mindful of his prosthetic leg. Theyʼre surrounded by snowflakes, the storm brewing wilder around them. Michael isn’t sure they will be able to make it back before it breaks on them. 

Max’s condo is at the penthouse in one of the highest towers in Chicago. Michael leads Alex into the elevator and pushes the correct button for the floor as the doors close. “So,” he says when the engine starts creaking its way upwards. “You and Max, huh?”

“It’s kinda been a surprise for me, too,” Alex says, looking as uncomfortable as Michael feels. On the one hand, he’s so much at ease with Alex that it seems like they’ve known each other for ages, but on the other hand Alex scares him a lot — as though he’s walking on quicksand and he could suffocate in dust anytime.

“Yeah, I imagine,” Michael hums as the door opens and they enter straight into Max’s uptown apartment, all decorated in white and silver. “Ugh, this is way more _pristine_ than I remembered.”

“Does anyone use that word anymore?” Alex huffs a laugh as he follows inside. “You’re such a dork.”

And there goes all Michael’s self-restraint. He has to grip whatever he has closer — the back of one white couch — to keep himself from acting on the butterflies currently flying up a storm that could rival the snow falling outside. “Letʼs just water the plants,” he stammers. “Then we can get out of here before the storm traps us in here.”

Alex nods, getting rid of his coat and rolling up his sleeves. Michael follows suit, and they spend longer than he had anticipated dancing around each other as they try to water every plant, Alex singing to them with a surprisingly good voice. 

“Didn’t know you could sing,” Michael tells him, one hand holding the watering can and the other keeping one green leaf apart from its trunk so he can water the roots. “There’s so much about you we donʼt know. Guess now that youʼll be family, we can get to know each other.” 

“Yeah,” Alex says with a small voice. He drops the subject almost instantly, and he stops singing. Michael misses the sound of his voice within the first second of silence. 

They don’t talk much, but the silence that grows is actually comfortable enough for Michael to relish in it. When they’re done, Michael looks out of the window and sees the storm howling outside. “I donʼt think we can go out right now. And I don’t think I could drive in this,” he keeps on gesturing at the snowflakes. 

“What about we stay here for a while, get to know each other?” Alex offers, almost shyly. “Iʼd kill for some shameful stories about Max’s childhood.” 

“Oh, I have tons,” Michael laughs. That gets a laugh out of Alex and Michael finds himself once again lost in the sound. 

The snow goes on and on, but he doesn’t care anymore. Michael has never liked snow, but he thinks he might be developing a soft spot for the white that covers everything, if it keeps falling and preventing Alex Manes from getting out of the house.


	3. Chapter 3

They are walking through the snowed streets of Chicago, under a full moon that’s bathing everything in silver and white, and Michael just won’t shut up. It’s making Alex antsy, all those words that seem unstoppable just falling out of the mouth Alex shouldn’t be dreaming of kissing. They’ve known each other for a total grand of half a day, they barely met this morning when Michael came back home for breakfast, and they have been attached by the hip ever since. 

Alex isn’t supposed to be spending so much time with his fake fiancé’s brother. He isn’t supposed to _enjoy_ spending that much time with his fake fiancé’s brother.

And yet, he finds it easier to talk about himself with this complete stranger than heʼs ever felt around Liz or Maria or Kyle. Theyʼve already talked about childhood and embarrassing situations, and now it seems theyʼre moving onto heavier stuff. 

Alex canʼt help but dread the moment they get to his apartment. He doesn’t want to be parted from Michael’s side. 

_This just keeps improving_ , he thinks to himself. 

“So, tell me, Alex Manes, where did you grow up?”

“God, you’ve just become Mr Chatty this evening!”

“Fact of the matter is, I’m about to start shivering, and making conversation keeps my face from freezing.”

Alex’s about to burst if they keep at this rate, their arms brushing with every step, and he can feel his skin prickling at the murmur of a contact that’s taking place through so many layers of clothes Alex shouldn’t be feeling it.

And yet here he is, blushing slightly from Michael’s words or the weather. Definitely the weather, he tells himself.

He doesn’t really want to talk about his shitty upbringing and the beatings he underwent on a daily basis once his mother passed away, when he was barely six. He doesn’t think itʼs the best way to go with someone heʼs only known for a few hours, no matter how connected he feels to Michael Guerin. 

“I don’t really think you needed to walk me all the way to my apartment,” Alex complains as he wraps his oversized coat tighter around his frame. “It’s freezing, and there’s ice on the ground.”

“It helps me keep my skin young,” Michael jokes, a few steps behind him. “You look cold.”

“Probably because I’m cold,” Alex sighs. His coat isn’t all that warm, but it’s the last gift he keeps from his days back in Roswell, the last thing he has from Maria and Liz and the old days, before they all moved out and ended up in Chicago after several bumps along the road. “What about you?” he asks back.

“This jacket is reversible. I’m wearing the warm side now,” Michael bursts into laughter. They are sliding through the ice rather than walking on it, and Alex is afraid they’re going to fall down any minute. “Plus, I said I’d walk you back home. For protection.”

Alex holds back another bitter remark. When the snow had begun to fall heavier and heavier, both Michael and he had realized they wouldn’t be able to drive back anywhere, but staying at Max’s hadnʼt been an option. Alex had told Michael he could walk back home — after all it was just fifteen blocks away — and Michael had insisted on coming along, even though it would take him way longer to get back to Isobelʼs afterwards. 

“Guerin, I am a war veteran. I don’t think I need protection.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean for you,” Michael keeps jabbing. His jacket looks unsuited for the cold; Alex wants nothing else than to pull him in and hug him. Instead, he rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t want to be at Max’s by myself.”

“Oh, a little bit of fancy uptown condo is too much for you?” Alex knows how to play this game too. Besides, they’re really close to his apartment. He just has to keep his façade for a while longer and then he can drop the act.

“I still don’t understand how it isn’t too much for you,” Michael retaliates. “You don’t look like the kind of guy who would blend in Max’s life.”

Alex freezes, just as much as the streets under the snow, before he decides to play it cool. He’s in so much shit right now — feigning being Max Evans’ fiancé just because he’d fallen for the dream of a police officer he saw on the coffee shop every day on his way to his office. He knows it’s not going to end on a good note for him. He can’t be developing any kind of feelings for Max’s long lost brother Michael Guerin.

Itʼs too soon. Itʼs too much. 

Itʼs cosmic. 

“Well, I guess I just got lucky,” he mutters. Alex looks at his hands for what seems like a really long time but can’t be more than a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Michael tells him. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was bad taste.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I guess I’m just tired. That is my apartment,” Alex points at the building. “Thank you, uhm, for coming here with me. I had, uh, I had a good time.” He begins walking towards the building, but his feet keep slipping over the ice, giving him the feeling of skating without a safety net. He slides and almost loses his balance, but Michael’s fast in stretching out a hand and placing it on Alex’s back, effectively keeping him in place. “It’s really slippery here!”

“Got this far,” Michael tells him with a lopsided smile. “I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

“Well, you gotta watch out, it’s a little icy!”

They walk side by side two steps toward the building before Michael loses his grip on Alex and tumbles down to the ground. Alex manages to keep upright long enough to laugh at Michael before bending down to help him stand back up. Once he’s got a hold of him, Alex pulls Michael up only to be countered back with Michael’s weight and the both of them end up on the icy ground, a sound so similar to fabric ripping that has them both panting, laughter taking their breaths away.

“What was that?” Alex laughs.

“My jeans,” Michael laments. “They were the only decent pair I had left!”

“C’mon, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Alex says as he manages to stand up and look over Michael’s shoulder to assess the state of his jeans.

“Are you checking out my ass, Manes?”

“You wish, Guerin,” Alex replies, blushing. He turns his head around so Michael doesn’t see it.

There’s a hand snaking around his wrist, a warmth he isn’t ready to feel, and then Michael is up beside him with a smile of his own. “C’mon, Manes, I’ll wait till you get inside.”

“I’d really really rather you not,” Alex pleads. “It’s bad enough that you’ve ripped your jeans—”

“—and that you got to check me out—”

“—I don’t want you to freeze to death while I manage to break my neck on this ice rink.”

“You’re really funny, Alex Manes,” Michael tells him. He bows as farewell. “I’ll go now. I guess I’ll see you when I see you?”

Alex starts feeling how the warmth leaves him in waves. He already misses it, but how can he miss something he’s never had, or that he’s had for such a brief lapse of time? And yet, here he is, staring into hazel eyes and wishing he could thread his fingers through those curls that have to feel as soft as they look like. “Yeah,” he breaths out. “See you, Guerin.”

“See you around, Alex.”

He watches as Michael walks back down the street, hands trying to cover the massive rip in the back of his jeans, and he turns around, fumbling for the key in his pocket, when the door opens from the inside and he’s greeted by Kyle’s smug face. “Not now, Kyle,” he warns.

“What’s with the new guy, Alex? Didn’t you have enough yesterday? I hadnʼt pegged you for a Casanova.”

“He’s Max’s brother, Michael.”

“Fantastic, Alex. Truly amazing,” Kyle says shaking his head. “What are you going to do now?”

Alex looks back just one more time, Michael’s frame sauntering away over the ice, and smiles nervously. “Tomorrow,” he promises. “Tomorrow Iʼll tell them the truth.” 

He doesn’t miss the way Kyle rolls his eyes as they climb up the stairs to their apartment on the second floor, wide windows dominating the views of their world. When Alex reaches one of them, rushing past their Christmas tree already overflowing with decorations, he can see Michael walking away, one hand trying — and failing — to cover his ripped jeans, curls blowing in the wind. Heʼs sure Michael is most probably singing a Christmas carol as he walks back home. 

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Kyle huffs at his back. “Iʼm going to bed, I have an early shift. Maybe _after_ you tell them the truth I will get to meet this guy. Isobel said he had work, but who doesn’t rush to his brotherʼs hospital bed after an accident like this?” 

Alex bursts out in laughter. “Isobel, huh?” he sobers up a little at the warning gaze he gets from his friends. “You’re one to tell me, Kyle. She’s married. To a complete jerk, according to Michael, but married.” 

Kyle bushes. “She was friendly, and I am her brotherʼs doctor. Besides, that was not the point. The point was—” 

“—that I am a filthy liar who lies,” Alex says, turning around to face the window once again, his fingers against the cold glass. “I don’t know whatʼs gotten into me. Iʼm not like this, Kyle. I will tell the truth. Tomorrow.” 

But even as he speaks, he can feel something creaking inside of him, rupturing his soul in two at the mere thought of never seeing Michael again. He tries to shake himself out of it, because itʼs silly and unthinkable to feel this connected to someone heʼs just met. 

And yet, a cold that has nothing to do with the snow and the ice outside creeps up his spine and takes hold of his heart at the idea of being alone, without him.


	4. Chapter 4

“—to God, Noah, if you donʼt show up in the next two hours—” 

Michael stumbles into the hospital corridor after a particular hard night shift at the bar, exhausted from having to shove out men who were harassing other people and earning himself broken skin around the knuckles and a bruise forming under the collar of the shirt he hasnʼt been able to change. 

“Has Noah _not_ replied to her texts and messages?” Michael asks Charlie, whoʼs already peeking out from Max’s room with a quirked eyebrow. “Itʼs been three days.” 

“Oh, he has,” Charlie tells him as she gets on her toes and kisses his cheek as greeting. “She’s currently talking to him. Like, _actual_ talking and not leaving a message on his voice mail.” 

Michael looks back at his sister and takes in the tension around her shoulders and the way she’s leaning heavily into the nearest wall. “It doesn’t sound nice.” 

“I can only tell from what I overheard,” Charlie tells him. “But it isn’t going how she wanted it to. I now have to go,” she keeps going. “My manager is a bitch and wouldn’t let me take a couple of days off for this. So I have to go. Should be here after my shift.” 

“I have an early shift at the Pony,” he sighs hugging her after she takes her coat and steps outside. “Stop by on your way back here. Might have a Christmas shot ready for you.” 

Charlie laughs and waves him good he. Michael slumps against the wall, keeping an eye inside the room where Max is still sleeping while he braces himself for the fall out of whatever Isobelʼs fighting over with Noah. He has the inkling that it isn’t going to be pretty. 

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Isobel drops her voice an octave. Michael hates how she sounds hurt and lost, but he canʼt do anything. Not yet. “Of course I can take a hint, Noah, but seriously I don’t—wait a sec, Noah—Noah!” She takes the phone off her ear and stares at it incredulously, as though it held all the blame for Noah having, presumably, hung up on her. 

“Iz?” he says, pushing off the wall and walking to her. He places a hand on her arm, noticing she’s shaking. When she turns around he can see tears running down her cheeks. 

“Heʼs not coming,” she stutters through her crying. She wipes angrily at her tears. “Said he doesn’t want to be here for me when he could be having fun somewhere else. Said I canʼt take a hint. Said he doesn’t care if Max wakes up or not, because nothing my family goes through is important to him.” 

“Really, Iz?” Michael moves to hug her as his mind races with all the ways he could run over Noah without being caught. Michael isn’t a big fan of Max these days, but even if he didn’t care about his brother, he cares about Isobel. He would do anything for her — it seems heʼs mistaken in thinking that someone who loved Isobel enough to marry her would care about the things that worry her. “He isn’t worth your time.” 

“I’ll take care of this later,” she says, composing herself back into the mask she usually wears around strangers. “Once Max is awake. Now I have other issues.” 

Michael wants to press on but he knows his sister. He knows there’s something heʼs missing, something about Noah and Isobel and the way they have been acting together lately, but he doesn’t pry. She will talk to him when ready to do so, and meanwhile he can plot ways to kill Noah. 

“Did you stay all night?” he asks, trying to divert her attention to the problem at hand.

“No, I just came in,” she explains, straightening her jacket and walking into Max’s room. “Doctor Valenti said there wasn’t any need for us to spend the night, since they would call us in case something happened.”

“Cool,” Michael steps by her side as she caresses Max’s hand on top of the blankets, white and aseptic and completely impersonal. “I can stay for a couple of hours, but I have an early shift at the Pony.”

“I thought you only helped Maria during weekends,” Isobel accuses him, looking him in the eye. She’s always been able to see through him, so he shrugs, not ready to tell her the truth, but knowing he has to, eventually.

“It’s Christmas time,” he explains. “Maria needs all the help she can get, with all the groups coming and going. Plus, the tips are good.”

“You working for tips now?”

“You know what, Isobel, you don’t need to worry about me right now,” he tells her, taking a seat on the couch that’s set up in a corner of the room, next to the windowsill where a bouquet of flowers rests in a vase. “I’ll be fine. Just focus on Max. Tell me, what did the doctors say?”

He listens as she lists all the advantages and disadvantages of the therapy the doctors have advised for Max — he can tell she’s leaning towards what Doctor Valenti has to say on the matter, given that he’s Max’s doctor. Michael has yet to meet him, since his own work schedule overlaps with when the doctor comes in to talk about Max’s health, but he knows Isobel relies on him a lot, because he’s the expert and Isobel has always had a certain respect for experts, but Michael can also tell that there’s something more.

He needs to watch them interact to know if he’s onto something here.

Michael endures three long hours of Isobel chatting away about different treatments and schedules for doctors to wake Max up if he doesn’t do so on his own, all the while inserting some lines about how Noah is a complete bastard, with which Michael has to agree. He doesn’t know half of what’s going on with his sister’s marriage, even though he lives with them, because he has never had any interest in what Noah did with his life. Now, though, that his complete disinterest has affected Isobel in ways Michael can only begin to imagine — for Isobel has been deeply in love with Noah, and for all he knows she still is — he needs to plot a way to get back at Noah for hurting his sister’s feelings.

Eventually, he has to leave, and he tells her so. Isobel pouts, but she doesn’t push. Michael thanks her inwardly for being classy enough not to point out that he’s leaving her on her own until either Jenna or Charlie arrive from their respective jobs. He says goodbye to Max with a bow of his head, fully aware that his brother can’t watch his movement, and he kisses Isobel’s cheek before escaping to the craziness that’s the Wild Pony on the days before Christmas.

It’s only a few hours later, when he’s already used to the shouts and the orders and the people flirting with him that Michael can catch a breath, albeit a short one, leaning away from the counter of the bar, his back to the bottles neatly lined up in the shelves, before he’s subjected to yet another tipsy customer wanting to grope him over the bar.

“Two Jaegers and a whiskey on the rocks!” 

Michael nods as he takes in the umpteeth order of the night. It’s been a busy night at the Wild Pony, everyone wanting to celebrate Christmas with friends before the craziness sits in for the family holidays. He turns around, grabs the bottle heʼs been asked for, and gets ready to face the crowd once again. 

Maria winks at him from the other side of the counter, where she’s tending to a group of women cheering and singing Christmas songs loud enough to be heard over the music thatʼs always playing in the background. She waves at him as she twirls around and pours several shots in a row, making a show out of her bartending abilities. 

“Hey!” he hears at his left. When he turns, whiskey bottle still in hand, he sees a man trying to catch his attention. He gestures at him to let him know that heʼs next; Michael knows itʼs better to acknowledge the customers before they can hold up a ruckus. He pours the Jaegers and the whiskey and turns to the man. 

“What can I get you?” he says, flirty, because thatʼs who he is. He takes in the man — sharp cheekbones, dark hair cut straight and short, eyes pools in his face. The green button down heʼs wearing hugs his shoulders in all the right places. Michael would have tried something with him, despite Mariaʼs effort to ingrain in his mind that he shouldn’t hook up with patrons. 

“A beer,” the man orders, turning slightly to his left to talk to who seems to be his companion for the night. “What’s your poison, Alex?” he demands, and Michael freezes when he sees Alex Manes — _Max’s_ Alex — turning to this man and smiling.

“Another one,” he says before realizing who’s the bartender. “Michael!” he says cheerfully. “I didn’t know you worked here? Do you know Maria?”

“I do,” Michael says carefully, picking up two beer bottles from behind him without even looking. “Do _you_ know her?”

Alex laughs, and it’s once again one of the most musical sounds Michael has heard in his life. He should really get a grip, but he can’t help the shiver that runs up his spine at the sound. “Of course! She was like, my best friend growing up! We all ended up in the same place somehow, me, Maria, Liz, and Kyle,” he gestures to the man at his right. “Lemme introduce you,” Alex continues, apparently unaware of Michael’s fabblergastered stare. “Michael, this is Kyle Valenti. Kyle, this is Michael Guerin, Max’s brother.”

Michael barks out a laugh that bursts out of him strangled and weird. This can’t be his life, he tells himself as he leans even further on the counter to shake Kyle’s hand. “Please tell me you’re not _that_ Kyle Valenti. Like, the doctor who’s taking care of Max.”

Kyle grabs his hand and squeezes it warmly. “I’m afraid I am,” he jokes. “This is such a coincidence, you know, Alex? I wouldn’t have thought I’d cross paths with Max’s elusive brother at Maria’s bar. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re avoiding the hospital like the plague.”

Michael shakes his head. He’s not about to spill his fear of hospitals to a total stranger. “I have odd schedules, much like yours.” 

He doesn’t know what else to say, but he’s saved by other customers that keep him busy as he feels Alex’s gaze on him. When he’s free once again to go back to him, he’s alone, Doctor Valenti nowhere to be seen.

“So, why are you so afraid of hospitals that you barely go there to visit Max?” Alex asks straight away. “Kyle’s there most of the time, and he didn’t know you. And all the times I’ve been there, you weren’t around.”

Michael sighs. “I’ve been afraid of hospitals since I was a kid,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. _So much for keeping this a secret, Guerin_ , he admonishes himself. “When I went into the system and got separated from Max and Isobel, I was taken to a hospital where they put me through different treatments to ensure I was _fine_. It seems being hyperactive and alone aren’t good enough reasons for a child to act weird at seven,” he shrugs. “I’ve been avoiding hospitals my whole life after that.”

“That’s why your hand isn’t healed properly?” Alex points out. He blushes and covers his mouth with his hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Michael finds himself replying. He truly doesn’t care that Alex knows his secrets; it should scare him that he’s so at ease around his brother’s fiancé, and he’s been in denial about the real reasons why he keeps interacting with Alex. He doesn’t want to think about the ramifications of what he’s doing, because once Max wakes up, this dream Michael is living through will shatter in a million pieces. “And yeah, that’s why. It was a, uh, hate crime,” he explains in a low voice. He knows he yelled at Isobel about it the first day he met Alex, but somehow this feels different. He _needs_ to explain himself; he doesn’t want Alex to know through other people. “Max didn’t really help, but that was a darker time. I’m sure he’s doing better now, given the circumstances. But I refused to go to the hospital, so it healed awkwardly.” He flaunts his mangled hand in front of himself with a small smile. “Nothing major.”

“It is major,” Maria interrupts them, showing up out of the blue. “You were fired from your old job as a mechanic when it happened.”

“You’re a mechanic?” Alex asks at the same time as Maria keeps going.

“How on Earth do you two know each other?” she says as though she’s just realized the coincidence.

“He’s Max’s brother,” Alex says hurriedly, before Michael can even form a coherent reply. It sounds rushed, and Maria’s eyes widen comically before she shakes her head.

“Wow, the world truly is small,” she says. “Don’t keep my man from working, Manes,” she warns both of them even though she only addresses Alex. Michael laughs when Alex nods innocently.

“You can distract me anytime you want,” he offers flirtatiously before he can stop himself. “I mean, I could use a bit of relief from work,” he tries to amend. He knows he’s blushing, and from the look in Alex’s face, he’s not the only one.

“It’s crazy, that you know Maria,” he muses.

“Well, I used to come here all the time to drink,” Michael explains. “I’m trying to stay sober, these days. Been sober for around a hundred and three days now,” he announces proudly. Alex coos lowly, eyes wide with what Michael thinks it’s pride. “But Maria helped me out when I needed a job, and I’ve moved from only doing handiwork around here to actually tending the patrons.”

“That’s Maria for you,” Alex agrees. “She’s always been the saving type.”

“Yeah, that’s her,” Michael smiles. 

“Well, now I understand why she was so adamant to tell me about the guy she was dating, although I thought she said his name was Chad,” Alex says slowly. Michael could swear there’s a tinge of regret in his voice. “I guess youʼre now ready for the next step, huh?” Alex asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “With Maria, I mean. The white picket fence, the dog, the future?”

Michael has to bite back a snarky remark at that. _He thinks I’m dating Maria_ , he thinks to himself. _Oh my God, Alex thinks I’m dating his best friend!_. “No, no,” he rushes to explain. “We kinda dated, a long while ago, but we’re better off as friends. And she’s really dating a Chad,” Michael shudders, Alex mimicking him. They both laugh heartily. “Dunno why, when she said she’d never _ever_ date another Chad. So. No picket fence or dog in my near future. Not that I’d know how to take care of any of them. I’ve never owned a house or a dog.”

“I never had a dog either,” Alex tells him, sliding through the other topic easily. Michael is grateful that Alex isn’t the prying type — he’s definitely not ready to talk about his lack of home while growing up, not even with Alex — so he lets it drop as well. “Growing up in a military household doesn’t bode well for having pets.”

Michael has to agree, nodding his head before being requested by someone from the group of women that have been taking up the karaoke stage, Maria motioning for him to set up the machine and bring more alcohol their way. He misses Alex leaving the bar at some point with Kyle, but Michael’s busy within his own thoughts, an idea already forming as he works his way through the crowds, with a tray full of half-empty glasses and plates of half-eaten snacks, blissfully unaware of almost everything except for his own memories of dark eyes and warm smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

His desk at work is completely trashed when he arrives the morning before Christmas Eve. It looks like a hurricane has met a tornado and they’ve decided to make out at his workplace. He drops his bag on the floor and looks around to see Liz getting out of their manager’s office. “Elizabeth,” he greets sternly, one hand already stretched towards the disaster his desk is. “Would you care to enlighten me about what happened to my desk?”

“I don’t know,” she answers truthfully, eyes wide as she steps closer and takes in the scene. All his papers are scattered on the floor, and although his laptop remains unscathed on top of the table, it looks like everything else is in pieces around it. “Do you think it’s payback?”

Alex frowns at her before crouching and picking up the papers on the ground. “Payback? Like, karma?”

“Yeah,” she keeps on. “Rosa is a firm believer, and it kinda rubbed off me.”

“But karma? What for?”

Liz looks at him pointedly and he sighs. So maybe lying to Max Evans’ family about their engagement wasn’t the brightest of his ideas, but it still doesn’t explain why his desk looks like a natural disaster.

“Manes!” he hears at his back, and when he turns he sees the new guy in the office, Forrest What’s–His–Name, waving at him. “Alex,” he says when he reaches them, out of breath as though he’s run a marathon. “Sorry for this,” he apologizes. Alex squints his eyes at him.

“You know what happened,” he states, more an accusation than a question.

“It was Buffy,” Forrest says as all explanation. “She got really excited to be here.”

“Who’s Buffy?” Alex and Liz ask simultaneously, both sporting mirroring confused frowns on their faces.

“The Beagle?” Forrest keeps on, gesturing towards some spot by the back of the room, where now Alex can see a tail wriggling happily. The rest of the dog must be hiding under one sturdy desk, for he can’t see it.

“Who allowed a dog inside the office?” he says as Liz saunters next to Buffy and kneels beside her, petting her behind her ears. Alex can finally see the dog peeking from behind Liz’s frame, and he can’t help the small smile that sneaks up on his face. He’s always wanted a dog, but growing up in a military house always prevented it.

When no one answers him, Alex sighs audibly and begins gathering his belongings from the floor. He can see one of his papers marked with teeth, and another of his folders looks chewed on. He shakes his head angrily and lifts everything up, dropping it unceremoniously on the desk. He’ll have time to organize his papers later. One envelope falls down again to the floor; Alex grunts but picks it up. It’s open, and in a messy scrawl it reads _Alex Manes, Computer Genius_ ; Alex knows exactly who’s from, and he shouldn’t feel this excited about Michael Guerin. He turns it over, shaking it to see if something slips out of it, but it’s completely empty. He searches the pile of papers he just stacked on top of his desk but he seems to recognize everything – whatever the envelope held, it isn’t on top of his desk.

He doubts the envelope ever had anything inside, and he begins to wonder if this is a prank Guerin has decided to pull on him for some secret reason.

As if on cue, his phone starts ringing, and when he checks the caller ID, he can’t help how his smile widens until turning into a full on grin. “Guerin,” he says as he picks it up, ignoring Liz’s arched eyebrow and Forrest’s frown under his blue fringe.

“Hey there, Private.”

“Told you, I’m not in the military anymore. And I was Air Force.”

“Whatever you say, _Private_.” Alex can hear a chuckle at the other end, and he shakes his head. “How’s your day going? Did you see what I left for you on your desk?”

Alex’s gaze falls back on the empty envelope and he decides to bite the bullet. “Well, not much to see, to be honest,” he jabs back. “But, anyway, thanks for the, uh, gift?”

He can almost feel Michael’s confusion radiating off him in waves through the phone. “I take it you didn’t like it,” he replies in a small voice, softer than Alex has ever heard him. It sends an inexplicable jolt of uneasiness through him.

“Well, Guerin, I’m not sure if an empty envelope qualifies as a proper gift,” he jokes, trying to ease the sudden weight he feels on his shoulders. He can’t stand knowing he’s made Michael sad.

“An _empty_ envelope?” Michael sounds genuinely shocked. “Wait, wasn’t there any papers inside? Are you telling me you haven’t met Buffy?”

Alex looks back to where Liz is still playing with the dog, and his gaze falls on Forrest’s right hand. His coworker is clutching some papers that look official, crumpled and folded as though they have been inside an envelope. “Wait a second, Guerin, don’t hang up,” he commands. With a long stride, he gets next to Forrest and stretches out his hand. “I believe that is mine,” he says softly, yet with authority. Forrest sighs and hands over the papers. “Don’t you ever try anything like that ever again,” he warns Forrest before turning around with the papers secured in his fist.

Alex reads quickly over the letterhead; those sheets are all the paperwork needed to adopt a dog out of one of the most crowded animal shelters around. He feels the sting of tears in the back of his eyes, and swallows around the lump that has formed all of a sudden in his throat. “Guerin?” he says in a low voice, once again talking to the speaker. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Michael immediately says. “Are you okay? Alex, you don’t sound–”

“I’m okay,” he reassures Michael. “Guerin, this is – how did you know?”

“That you wanted to adopt a dog?” Michael laughs, and it’s one of the nicest sounds Alex has heard in a long time. “You told me, once.”

“I told you, once,” Alex repeats stupidly. “And you remembered.”

“And I remembered.”

“Thank you, Guerin.” Alex blinks back the tears and waits a beat for Michael to talk.

“Merry Christmas, Alex,” Michael whispers on the line, and it warms Alex’s heart more than he’s ready to admit.

“Save that for tomorrow,” he finds himself saying, suddenly sure that he wants to spend Christmas Eve with Max Evans’ family if the gathering includes Michael Guerin. “I think I’ll take you up on your invitation. What should I bring?”

“Nothing,” Michael says brightly. “You don’t have to bring anything, Alex. I’m so happy you’ve decided to come.” He pauses for a second and seems to realize what he’s said. “I mean,” he continues bashfully, “you’re going to make Isobel really happy. She was looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Max’s fiancé is always welcome in her home.”

Alex sighs. He knew his lie would come back to bite him in the ass, but he wouldn’t have thought it’d be so soon. “Thanks. See you tomorrow,” he says simply before hanging up. When he looks up from his phone, his eyes meet Liz’s, who’s staring at him with a knowing gleam in her brown eyes. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replies, still scratching Buffy’s ear. “He got you a dog, you know. And you’re still keeping up the farce.”

“Liz,” he begins, but she cuts him off.

“Don’t even try. This is really messed up, Alex. You should tell them the truth, before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Alex says stupidly. When everything started, he hadn’t thought it would stretch out for so long. If he’s being honest with himself, this has been going on for one week too long — the exact seven days since Max was hit by a car in front of Alex.

“Too late to fall out of love with Max’s brother.”

Alex wants to retaliate, he wants to tell her she’s wrong. But a small voice inside his head, a voice that sounds so much like Maria that it’s scary, reminds him he’s already in too deep. Buffy barks happily and jumps toward him; Alex pets her head. Her fur feels soft and warm under his hands, just like coming home. Just like every moment he’s spent with Michael these past days — the light had seemed brighter when they were together, and the day had grown colder as he watched Michael walk away after dropping him home.

“Shit,” he says.

“Indeed,” Liz agrees with him.


	6. Chapter 6

Michael is getting ready in his room, checking himself on the mirror once again before heading back down. They’re visiting Max for a couple of hours before Isobel’s annual Christmas Eve Party, and they’re meeting Alex at the hospital. Michael would be lying to himself if he said he isn’t nervous about seeing the veteran again.

He doesn’t want to acknowledge what he’s been doing lately — the past few days he’s spent more and more time with Alex under every excuse he could think of. He’s called Alex to go water Max’s plants twice; then _Alex_ called him to go together and buy some treats for Buffy. Not a day has passed by without them either talking or meeting, and Michael feels his heart swell every time he sees Alex, and his knees go weak. He feels all warm inside whenever Alex laughs — and lately he laughs more openly, with much more mirth than the first few days when they had just met.

It’s such a mess, this situation he’s found himself in. This situation he’s _built_ for himself.

Alex is Max’s fiancé. Michael has no place there. And yet he wishes there would be a chance he could hold Alex in his arms and kiss him good morning every day for the rest of his life.

“You’re so fucked, Guerin,” he tells his reflection on the mirror before he hears Isobel calling his name.

“Weʼre stopping by at the Pony,” Isobel announces casually as he saunters down to the foyer.

“How so?” he asks, taking in his sister’s style — she’s wearing a deep blue suit, and seemingly underneath the jacket there’s no blouse. Michael blinks. “Feisty, aren’t we? Isn’t it a bit too much cleavage for visiting Max?”

Isobel blushes slightly, but she says nothing, not even addressing his question about why they’re going to the Pony. He follows her as she puts on her beige coat, stylish but still comfy and, from the looks of it, warm enough for the cold weather outside. “Your car, I assume,” he jabs at her. She laughs, and it’s the first sound she makes that isn’t cut off by a sob or a whine in the past few days, ever since Noah showed up in the middle of the night to gather his things. Their fallout hasn’t been pretty, but it hasn’t been obvious or public, and Michael knows Isobel is grateful for that. He’s also thankful for not having been there when Noah surreptitiously entered the house they all share and threw a tantrum when he found out Isobel had neatly made his suitcase and placed it at the end of the staircase. Michael knows he would have punched Noah, several times, and afterwards he would have alleged transient madness.

He follows Isobel and hops into the passenger seat, buckling himself up as she starts the engine and drives them away. He knows they’re meeting Jenna and Charlie either at the Pony or at the hospital; he can only wish that Alex will be at the Pony when they arrive. But halfway through their ride an incoming call reaches Isobelʼs phone and she answers it through the car’s Bluetooth system. “Isobel Evans.” 

“Mrs Evans, it’s Doctor Valenti,” comes Kyleʼs voice through the static. 

“Kyle! Whatʼs up? Whatʼs with the formalities?” 

“Max has woken up,” Kyle sounds every ounce of professional Michael knows he is even if heʼs watched the doctor get wasted on his day off at the Pony. 

Isobel almost rear-ends the vehicle waiting at a red light in front of them. “Oh my God! I have to call everyone! We will get there immediately! Has he spoken? Has he asked for me?” Isobel says, the words she hasnʼt spoken lingering loaded between Michael and herself, _does he remember me_ , is he going to be okay, _are we going to be fine_. He reaches over the console and grabs her hand on top of the steering wheel. 

“Hello, Kyle,” he greets the doctor. “We will be there as soon as possible. Thanks for calling.” 

Kyle disconnects the call and Michael squeezes Isobelʼs hand. “Hey, Iz,” he says. “Letʼs go, okay? Just drive to the hospital. I will call everyone.” 

He dutifully keeps his promise as Isobel wades through town. He reaches Jenna and lets her know before hovering over Alex’s name on his screen. After a minute he presses _call_ when they’re approaching the hospital but he ends it when he sees Alex already waiting for them at the entrance. Michael jumps out of the car before Isobel has even killed the engine in a parking spot in front of the building. “Alex,” he calls out, ignoring the pain slicing through his soul as he realizes this is one of the last moments they will spend together before Max re-enters their lives. 

“Kyle called me as well, after Isobel,” he explains. “I was on my way out. I—I donʼt know if I can do this.” 

“Bullshit,” Isobel decretes as she loops her arm in Alex’s. “You’re coming inside with us!” 

They don’t wait for Jenna and Charlie, who arrive barely a few minutes later, Isobel too nervous to do anything other than waiting for Kyle to come pick them up and give them the clearance to enter Max’s room. After going through Max’s complete history, Alex fidgeting trapped in Isobelʼs grip, theyʼre finally allowed inside. 

Max looks pale but his eyes are alert. He waves at them as they step inside, but he frowns when his eyes settle upon Alex. Michael fears that the couple had been fighting before the accident, some big issue Alex hasnʼt wanted to tell them about, if Max’s reaction to him is any inkling. 

“I’ll leave you alone,” Kyle says, tugging at Alex to follow him, but Max’s voice — low and unsteady — stops them in their tracks. 

“Whoʼs this?” 

“Your doctor, Max,” Isobel explains, rushing to his side. “You had an accident, you’re in the hospital.” 

“The told me that. I didnʼt mean him,” Max says, voice still hoarse from lack of use. “I meant _him_ ,” he points at Alex. 

Michael’s world freezes. 

“What do you mean? This is Alex, your fiancé,” Jenna tries to explain.

Alex has become flushed and all red in the face under Max’s prying gaze, Michael notices. He wonders whatʼs really going on here. 

“No, heʼs most definitely not! I would remember if I were into guys!” 

Isobel shakes her head and searches in Michael’s eyes for help, but Michael only shrugs in response. He doesn’t know what to do. Then, as Alex tries to escape once again, a wild idea forms in his head, similar to the one Isobelʼs thinking about, from the way she frowns and tenses up. 

“What the hell is going on?” she demands in an icy tone. Michael sees as Alex shudders under her gaze; he’s confused as to what’s going on, but he can’t peel his gaze away from Alex, from the way he seems to focus all of Michael’s attention, becoming the center of his own world.

“l am in love with your brother,” Alex says, in a low voice that barely trembles as he speaks, his body betraying the way his words sound sure and steady.

“l know?” Isobel asks, frowning. 

Michael can only hope — hope that he’s about to be told what he’s been dying to hear, even if it’s been only a few days since his world got turned upside down by the man who claimed to be Max’s fiancé.

“Not that one,” Alex clarifies, signalling Max, who shrugs as if saying _obviously_. “That one.”

And then everything becomes clear in Michael’s head — the walks by the river, the words exchanged, the gifts and the calls, the endless messages in the middle of the night, and all the lies he’s told himself about what was going on between Alex and himself, _it’s only friendship_ , _it’s cool to have a good relationship with your brother’s future husband_ , _at least this time it isn’t like Noah_ , everything lying in the open in front of him as he watches Alex staring at him, blushing with that tinge of pink that Michael finds endearing and completely heartwarming.

It isn’t one-sided, what he’s feeling. And although he knows he should feel bad, because somehow he’s managed to actually fuck up one of the good things Max had in his life, he can’t bring himself to care at all.

Alex Manes is in love with him.

“Michael, what the hell did you do?” Charlie almost yells his way. Jenna stops her with an arm in front of her chest when she’s about to lunge herself toward him.

“Not now, Charlie,” she speaks, clearly and slowly. “Let him explain.”

Michael wants to shout, he wants to claim that it wasn’t _only_ his fault, but Alex beats him to it.

“He didn’t do anything,” Alex explains, looking briefly at his hands. At first, his words are low, shy, but he clears his throat, squares his shoulders and repeats. “He didn’t do anything. lt was me. lt was all me.”

Isobel blinks, watching from Michael to Alex as though she’s attending a tennis match. Michael wants to step up and gather Alex in his arms, let him know that his feelings are reciprocated, but he knows right now isn’t the time to do so. He has the inkling that Alex is confessing to much more than having fallen in love with him over Max. 

“Um, do you remember that day at the hospital?” When Isobel and Charlie huff, Jenna simply rolling her eyes, Alex sighs. “Of course you remember that day at the hospital. Well, um, there was a little mix-up. Um, l saw Max on the road, and, uh, l saved his life. But when the ambulance came, they wouldn’t let me come with him. So, um, the—someone told the paramedics that l was his fiancé. Only, um—Oh. lt’s not true. l was never engaged to Max. I simply let everyone think I was.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Michael can’t help himself. If he can’t hold Alex and kiss his fears away, he at least can demand an explanation as to why they’ve been lied to — why _he_ has been lied to, by the man who’s now claiming to love him.

“Because l didn’t know how to tell you!” Alex exclaims in despair, hands flailing in the air. “We never even talked before his accident, Max and I. We just happened to go to the same coffee shop at the same time, every day.”

“I knew I’d met you before!” Max says, sitting up in his bed. “You looked familiar, you’re the nerd at the Bean Me Up coffee shop!”

“The _nerd_?” Michael says at the same time as Alex whispers, “Yeah, that’s me.” Michael shuts his mouth and stares as Alex blinks away what look like tears. 

“And, um,” he goes on. “It’s just when we were in the hospital waiting room, everything happened so fast. And l couldn’t tell you the truth. I couldn’t—I didn’t find the right moment, even if I kept telling myself that I would.”

“Did Kyle, or Maria, or even Liz know?” Isobel asks. Alex nods, and she flops down on the couch near the bed with a sigh. “Those—”

“Don’t,” Alex cuts her off. “It’s all my fault. I asked them not to say anything. I _promised_ them I would tell the truth. I didn’t. I didn’t tell you the truth. l didn’t wanna tell you the truth because, um, the truth was that l fell in love with you.” He’s looking straight into Jenna’s eyes as he speaks, and Michael can see the moment realization dawns on him, as his eyes widen and his mouth opens comically.

“You fell in love with me?” comes Jenna’s surprised and strangled reply. Michael wants to laugh, and maybe he lets out a hysterical huff he might deny having even made.

“No,” Alex amends quickly. “No—Yes. All of you. l went from being all alone to being… a fiancé, a brother, and a friend. l might have saved your life on the road that day, Max. But you know what? You all really saved mine. You allowed me to be a part of your family, and l haven’t had that in a really long time. And l just didn’t want to let go of that. So even though it was just for a little while, l will love this family I’ve found always. l’m very sorry.”

Michael wants to reach out; he sees Isobel moving out of the corner of his eye, but Alex is faster than them all, even faster than Charlie, who’s closer to him. He grabs his coat and turns to leave, fleeing the room before any of them can actually react. When Michael sets into motion, rushing to the door and running down the corridors to the main door, Alex is long gone. He fishes for his phone and dials Alex’s number. 

“Please, pick up, please, pick up,” he mutters into the microphone as the tone drags out. At the other end the call gets cut off, and when he tries to call again, he’s sent straight to voicemail. “Fuck!” he exclaims, loud enough to earn himself a glare from the nurses at the nurse station there. He walks back to the room, dragging his feet across the floors, and when he enters back into Max’s hospital realm, it’s like all hell has broken loose inside.

Isobel is talking to Max, who appears to be agitated. In his current state of recovering from a coma, Michael knows his brother should have been left alone and not subjected to drama, but this is big. Alex has been lying to all of them, he’s infiltrated their tiny world with a farce that has just exploded in all of their faces. Michael doesn’t know how his siblings feel about it — from the looks of it, Isobel and Max seem to be arguing about who’s to blame for this debacle. Jenna and Charlie seem to be trying to calm them down and talk some sense into them.

“He lied to you all, and you believed I could have been engaged to him?” Max cries out. 

“I swear to God, Max,” Isobel tells him, a warning in her voice that hadnʼt been there when she’d been addressing Alex. “If you say something that makes me think for the briefest moment that youʼre really the bigot youʼre trying so hard to be—” 

Max has the decency to look ashamed. “I didnʼt—” 

“Yes, you did,” she cuts him off, loud enough for everyone to hear. Michael knows that she knows itʼs going to embarrass Max, and he wants to go down that road. Apparently, Isobel wants that too. “You changed when we came here, Max. You became this insufferable brat who allowed our brother to believe he deserved to be attacked for loving another man. You betrayed Jenna for a promotion. You rooted for Noah instead of asking me if I was happy in my marriage. By the way, I wasnʼt,” she adds, matter of factly. “Noah’s left the house. No thanks to you, anyway.” 

“What’s your point?” Max grumbles. He rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “I’m a monster?” 

“You were,” Isobel tells him, placing a hand on his arm. “But this is your chance to redeem yourself. Starting from apologizing,” she instructs him as she nods her head toward Jenna, toward Michael himself. “And forgiving, in that order.” 

Max sighs. “Iʼm sorry, Michael,” he says. “I know I was a jerk to you, and I had no right. Just know, I looked for the guys who beat you,” he explains as everyone in the room gasps in surprise. “Hey, donʼt look at me like that. I tracked them down and managed to put them behind bars for another felony.” 

Michael can’t say anything, too moved by Max’s confession. Heʼs pretty sure that his brother has hit his head harder than what Kyle told them — but he isn’t about to complain, not when it looks like heʼs getting his brother back, the Max that he was when they all were younger and more innocent. He just nods his head in acknowledgement; Max smiles sadly and sighs again. 

Michael watches as he motions for Jenna to approach the bed and he mutters, “Iʼm so sorry, Jenna, I donʼt have any excuse. I hope I can make it up to you, to everyone really,” he continues. “I wish I could take back time, but I canʼt.” 

“Maybe we can move forward,” Jenna tells him. “Together, once again.” 

As Max smiles shyly and takes Jennaʼs hand in his, Isobel leaning away to give them a semblance of space and privacy, Michael realizes that Jenna is talking about rekindling the relationship they halted when Max decided to become a dick. Everyone seems to be unveiling their true feelings, whatever they are. 

Michael can only know how _he_ is feeling right now, and he should be feeling betrayed. He should be feeling awfully wronged. And yet he can only allow himself to dream. Because he hasn’t done anything wrong; he hasn’t overstepped into Max’s relationship, because there was never one to interfere. Michael hasn’t come in the middle of a healthy engagement, because it never existed.

Alex has been free to love Michael, and Michael has been free to love Alex, this whole time. _Why hasn’t he said anything to me?_ he thinks. 

“—no need to apologize to me, Max, I have already taken matters into my own hands with Noah, but Michael—” he hears Isobel speaking his name, and he shakes himself back into reality, bracing himself for the argument that’s brewing.

“I didn’t know, I swear,” he starts, but Isobel dismisses him with a wave of her hand.

“I know,” she says. Michael looks at her as she fumbles for words, for the first time in a long while. “What are you going to do now?”

“Aren’t you mad at Alex?” he asks stupidly.

“I know I should be, but it’s easier this way,” Isobel explains. “Alex lied, yeah, but who has been completely sincere in this? We all have secrets, and those secrets have messed up with us for so long. We have all apologized and are ready to forgive. The real question here is, Michael, are you mad at Alex?” When he shakes his head, Isobel smiles. “Then, what are you going to do about it, little brother?”

And that is a question Michael doesn’t have an answer for, just hopes for what’s to come, if he allows himself to wish for what he wants, for once in his life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, at the very end of this story! I want to thank everyone who's read, commented, left kudos or bookmarked this fic, and those who have been spreading word of it. I want to tell you all how much it means to me, to feel all the love you've all been giving this little story of mine. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the ending as well! See you soon (I hope!)

Itʼs snowing outside. Alex can see the snowflakes falling slowly on the street, covering everything in different shades of blinding white. He exhales against the window glass, drawing a smiley face in the frost. For a long time, he stares at the landscape, gaze lost in the snow that stretched out for miles way beyond the end of his street. Heʼs so lost in his own thoughts that the sound of his phone blaring to life startles him, making him jump in surprise. 

“Manes,” he all but barks on the speaker. 

“Where are you?” comes Mariaʼs voice. She sounds out of breath, as though she’s run half a marathon before calling him. There’s so much noise in the background that Alex finds it really difficult to hear her over the sounds that threaten to drown her voice. 

“Home, where should I be?” he replies, hand resting against the window, soaking up in the cold that seeps through the glass. 

“Helping me out with the New Yearʼs party?” she chides him, although there’s no bite in her words, more like a soft warning that heʼs lost track of time. “You promised youʼd be here three hours ago.” 

Alex sighs. It’s not that heʼs forgotten — which he most certainly has, to an extent — but he doesn’t feel like going anywhere today of all days, after everything thatʼs happened lately. He doesn’t want to go out of his apartment, even if Buffy is pawing at the door to let him know she wants to go play in the snow. 

“Iʼm sorry, Maria,” he tells her with another sigh. “I just donʼt feel well today.”

“So youʼre not going to celebrate the end of the year?” There’s a rustle in the background and the noise subsides; Alex thinks she’s moved somewhere more peaceful. 

“There’s nothing to celebrate.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Maria insists. “Yeah, youʼve been burned but—” 

“Because of my own bad decisions!” he yelps. Buffy leaves her spot by the door and comes next to him, resting her head on his foot. 

“Everyone is entitled to make mistakes,” Maria says wisely. “You wouldn’t be human if you were perfect. But you need to man up and face the world.”

Alex shakes his head, even though he knows Maria canʼt see him. 

“I know you, Alex,” she pushes. “And you know me. I won’t hesitate in sending someone your way and force you to come down here. I have several volunteers.”

Alex can hear Lizʼs laughter now in the background, Kyle teasing someone in his best baritone impression, and some voices he doesn’t recognize, until he hears a distinct, “there’s no way Iʼm going out in that weather!” and his heart stops. 

“Is that Isobel?” he asks, caution flooding his voice. He would have never thought that, after everything, Isobel Evans would have wanted to spend New Yearʼs with _his_ family. But, again, Kyle hadnʼt been lying to Isobel the whole time theyʼd known each other.

“You should come,” Maria repeats. “Youʼll be surprised.”

“Iʼm happy for you,” he tells his friend, trying to convey all he feels in those words. 

“Come, Alex, please. Trust me, it’s worth it.” 

“I’ll think about it,” he compromises, knowing fully well that tonight heʼll be welcoming the new year on his own in the solitude of his apartment. He hangs up on Maria, not wanting to hear more of her pleas, and rests his head on the back of his couch. Buffy barks lowly. 

“Itʼs for the best, Buffy,” he tells her, scratching her ear and closing his eyes.

He ignores the beeping from his cell phone for hours. From time to time there’s a message that lights up the screen, Kyle asking how heʼs doing, Maria wondering where he is, Liz asking for him to get his head out of his ass and go to the bar. He even has a text from Isobel, _youʼre still family, you moron_ , and some emojis from the Cameron sisters he promptly leaves unread. 

Half an hour before midnight, the voicemails begin to reach his device. He doesn’t want to listen to them, but Buffy whines every time the phone chimes, so Alex picks it up to put it in silence mode. His index finger slides over the screen and all of a sudden Michael’s voice fills the empty space of the apartment he shares with Kyle.

“Alex, please pick up the phone. This is important. Please.”

There’s a need in his voice that Alex has never heard before. He has to remind himself that he’s only known Michael for a little over a week, but the other man has taken over his soul and there’s no way Alex isn’t giving in and listening to the rest of the messages now that he’s started. Buffy barks her approval.

There are twelve of them, and Alex is almost in tears by the end of them.

“I hate it when you send me straight to voicemail. You’ve done this for a whole week now, Alex, and I hate it.”

“I get it, alright. You don’t want to talk to me. But I think we need to. We need to talk, Alex. Please, pick up the phone.”

“It’s almost midnight, Alex, and you’re not here. The girls are worried. I’m worried. Could you please just pick up your phone? Please?”

“Or just reply to any texts. Isobel’s ready to send in the cavalry. She won’t be walking outside with the storm, but she can convince Kyle to go search for you, and it seems the good doctor would do anything Isobel asks of him.”

“Ugh, just forget I said anything. You can at least live in blissful ignorance, but I will most probably have to bleach my brain after seeing Kyle trying to flirt with my sister. He failed, miserably if I may add.”

“Maybe he didn’t fail that much. Please save me from this insanity. Please, Alex. Will you at least reply to any of the texts? Even a small emoji of a thumbs up will be enough.”

“I take it you don’t want to talk. Then just listen. Max is here as well. He’s almost fully recovered, and he’s trying to make amends with everyone. He’s even buying drinks! Come here, this isn’t something that happens every day!”

“Alex, please. Please. I don’t think I can survive this circus without you. Max is already giving Jenna puppy eyes, and everyone is ready to puke here. Please, help us.”

“I’m almost convinced that you don’t really want to talk to me. Or any of us. Just forget about Max, and about your friends and my family. Forget about what happened. What do you feel? I refuse to think that you don’t feel anything, not after everything that’s happened between us. I know I’m not crazy. I know I haven’t imagined it.”

“Why aren’t you replying? I can see you’re listening to these audios. Please say something, Alex. Please. I need to hear your voice. And you need to hear me saying that I forgive you. Because I forgive you, Alex. Please believe me.”

“You’ve always been stubborn, haven’t you? I remember you telling me a story about your brothers and how they dared you to spend a whole night in December outside, in your patio, in only your boxers. And you made it through. Caught pneumonia. But made it. I am stubborn as well, Alex, but I love you. I’ve said it, laid it there for you to listen to it. I love you! I love you! I know it’s scary, I know it feels like a crash landing all the time. I know, Alex, I—”

“It got cut, but I stand by what I said. I love you, Alex. Do you love me? Why are we still apart? Please let me in. Please let me show you that one mistake can’t spoil everything we could be. Please let me in, Alex. Please.”

The last message rips through his soul and sets him on fire. He can’t believe what he heard. Michael must be drunk, although Alex remembers distinctly that Michael has been sober for half a year now. But somewhere deep in his brain Alex can’t allow himself to hope. 

Hope is dangerous.

Hope can’t be trusted. Alex can’t be trusted. He’s a liar. Why would Michael want to be with a liar who doesn’t face his own demons?

When there’s barely a couple of minutes to start the countdown, the noise outside his door begins. At first he thinks it’s ruckus, maybe his neighbors getting ready for the new year, maybe someone already tipsy. He tries to tune it out, but it evolves quickly into something eerily similar to someone knocking a steady staccato on his door.

“Go away!” he yells. “Go celebrate elsewhere!”

The knocking doesn’t stop. Alex turns the volume up, Buffy scowling at him from her spot at his feet at the noise of thousands of people cheering at some celebrity whoʼs in charge of pushing the oversized button that will set the ball down. He ignores both his dog and the nuisance at his doorstep, and focuses on the screen where the camera crew are filming the crowd on the front row. Alex bundles up tighter in his blanket, leaving the half empty dish of spaghetti Alfredo on the coffee table. He sighs when he finally stops hearing the ruckus outside his apartment. Buffy drops her head back on top of Alex’s feet, seeking his warmth; Alex picks up the remote and lowers the TV sound enough for it not to be deafening. 

The knocking on his door resumes. 

Itʼs loud enough that he canʼt ignore it any longer, for fear he might bother his neighbors with the noise, so with a huff he stands up, reaching for his crutch. Buffy growls lowly when he slips his feet from underneath her head, looking up at him once again with an annoyed glint in her eyes. Theyʼve been together for a week and a half now, and sheʼs already got to him. Alex hadnʼt known it was possible to fall in love within hours, and yet thatʼs what happened when he found out Guerin had sent her his way. 

Then again, Alex had never believed in love at first sight until he caught a glimpse of whiskey eyes and golden curls. 

On the TV, the crowd is starting to chant the countdown to a new year, while Alex limps his way to his front door, ready to chew out whoever was out there for interrupting his perfectly fine wallowing alone time with his pet. The knocking is getting louder by the second; he bites his lower lip in an attempt to keep harsh words from spilling out, because he doesn’t want to start a new year angry at the world even though he lives in a permanent state of being disappointed in himself. 

“What the actual fuck dʼyou—” he starts as he yanks the door open, schooling his features into a menacing mask. 

He doesn’t have the chance to finish his line of thought. 

Once the door is completely open, forced by his desire to end this nonsensical knocking on his house door, Alex’s words are cut off by broad hands lifted to his neck, plump lips on his, and a warm and familiar body colliding against him as he stumbles backwards, crutch falling to the floor, door left open. He doesn’t register heʼs being kissed at first, too busy fumbling with not falling down, but soon enough he catches on, his own fingers finding their way through wild curls that are softer to the touch than they look, and his whole world tilts on its axis. 

The crowds are reaching the end of the countdown quicker than Alex expected, but he couldn’t care less. He tugs, threading through those curls heʼs only dreamed of touching again, and wishes this moment never ends, even if this is only a dream. It has to be — heʼs fallen asleep on the couch on New Yearʼs Eve, and he doesn’t want to wake up, not when heʼs dreaming kisses that trail down his soul like a fire sent ablaze. 

“Happy New Year!” the crowd chants, the ball dropping on TV, and suddenly Alex is being held apart from the warmth that has surrounded him for the last few seconds. He misses it instantly. 

“What—” he starts again, looking up at the man at his door, marveling in the reality of it all — in the weight on his shoulders where hands have landed, in the tingling of his lips where he has been kissed. 

Michael Guerin is staring back at him, starstruck and hopeful, so much so Alex can _feel_ it oozing off his skin. Michael’s smiling, his face lit with the beaming of happiness and the Christmas lights Alex keeps on throughout his apartment. They remain silent for the longest time, drinking in each other, soaking up in feelings, wishing, hoping. 

Loving. 

“I came here to talk to you,” Michael giggles, voice soft and mouth full of the kisses that have yet to come.

“Okay then,” Alex whispers back, lips against lips but not really kissing. “Talk.”

Fireworks explode on the TV, everyone greeting and kissing and celebrating, and all Alex wants to do is stay in this moment forever. 

Michael smiles at the same time as Alex moves forward, and they meet again in the middle, all questions and doubts and fears forgotten in the aftermath of a war they hadnʼt been aware they were fighting. There will be time for asking, for planning, for crying. 

Right now, Alex only wants to set his soul alight with Michaelʼs touch on him. 

“Happy New Year, Alex,” Michael whispers against Alex’s lips. 

“Happy New Year, Michael,” he replies, sighing, leaning in, until heʼs kissing Michael again, and again, and again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have made it this far, I something to say to you:
> 
> THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART.
> 
> This story means the world to me, and I am so glad that I've been finally able to share it with you all. Thank you for reading and for commenting and for leaving kudos. Thank you for letting me be part of your lives for a brief moment.


End file.
